


Dearest My-cutio

by TheCoolestNapkin



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet (1968)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aromantic Mercutio, Butt Slapping, Kinky, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, No Fluff, Rough Sex, Smut, Tree Sex, Tyballs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCoolestNapkin/pseuds/TheCoolestNapkin
Summary: Tybalt and Mercutio are dearest enemies. They fight and fuck together.Warning: This is some wacky NSFW. Tybalt and Mercutio are kinky folks. This is not for the faint of heart.





	Dearest My-cutio

"You there! Montague!"

Mercutio, sitting and conversing with friends on the steps of a library, turned to the hot headed Tybalt. He seethed with passion. Tybalt's short strides and stature always packed a high saturation of emotion, with every limb prepared to take action on every feeling that overcame him. He whisked out his rapier, gleaming blinding light under the afternoon sun. Unarmed, Mercutio paused under the blade between his eyes.

"A Montague I am not, dear foe."

"You might as well be one." he sneered. "I challenge thee to a duel."

"Here?"

"O'er Ponte Scaligero. Evening." Tybalt's voice deepened at the last word. Mercutio almost smirked, watching his usual fiery, intense eyes darken to soft, lustful mush from his gaze. Tybalt trailed his sword down his chest. Mercutio closed his eyes as the tip of the blade slid down his neck with gentle strokes. Tybalt withdrew his sword.

"Bring your sharpest."

He paused for a moment, examining his work of unraveling Mercutio from snark to sensual silence in the matter of seconds, before sheathing his weapon. Sauntering away, his sword dangled from swaying, sultry hips. Mercutio dared not to look any longer. One of his companions on the steps elbowed him, snickering.

"Looks like he bested you this time, Montague."

"Cat got your tongue?"

Mercutio said nothing. They were right.

~~~

A few torches lit the late evening at the Scaligero bridge. Flickering, warm lights fell on Mercutio's face and the bucket he held as he ambled atop the brick. The last sliver of sun shimmered in the waters under the bridge and in his bucket. He poured water over each flame, putting them out with a hiss, further blanketing himself in darkness. He took his time, not wanting the anticipation to gnaw away at him in idleness. As he began to pour over another, he heard a distant sizzling of dying fire accompanying his own. By then, it was completely dark. Turning towards the sound, he saw a familiar, tiny figure with one hand resting on his hip, another clutching a pail by the tip of his fingers. Mercutio ran towards the sound, arms reaching out, until they interlocked with another. He took in Tybalt's scent- perfume mixed with battle sweat- before giving him a long awaited kiss on the mouth. Tybalt, standing on his toes, tangled his fingers in the other's hair, locking their faces together, their tongues and mouths becoming a connected, warm chamber.

"My," Tybalt gasped amongst the lip smacking, "You've brought your sharpest, indeed."

He pulled away and grasped Mercutio by the hips.

"Come with me."

Tybalt led Mercutio across the bridge with one hand still on his side, which traveled down to his arse as they walked. When he clenched around his rear, Mercutio stifled a moan. Tybalt could burn a hole into Mercutio with the way he stared at him, an aggressive lust seeping through a fervent gaze. Mercutio lapped up the attention- his pants bulged with pleasure. 

"Your silence plagues me, My-cutio."

"O' cursed word-play-" 

Mercutio gasped as Tybalt moved his hand to his groin, stroking and petting his bulge. His legs wobbled as he staggered and fell onto the cobble path on his knees. Tybalt crouched down to lift his face with his finger, pleading eyes staring back at him with an increasing, pant-tightening hard-on. He whispered into his ear. Every breath brought warmth between his lips and Mercutio's face.

"My deepest desire," Tybalt purred, "'tis the Capulet name echoed o'er all of Verona, uttered from the cries of a Montague consort."

"I'd never-"

Tybalt pushed him to the ground as he hovered over him. Dilated, green-hazel eyes bored into Mercutio from above.

"Fool! I could do it right now!"

Though not in contact, his hips were close enough to his own to make him squirm. Mercutio whimpered. It didn't matter if he laid on the ground in the open, he wanted Tybalt's phallus swallowed up within him, his hands and knees scraped raw against the stone path from holding himself up as his body bounced to the dick pounding into him. As he reached to close the gap between them, Tybalt stood up and continued walking.

"...But I won't." 

Mercutio, still on the ground, let out a frustrated groan of betrayal.

"Tonight holds greater, more satisfying methods."

His feelings of betrayal turned to dick-throbbing excitement. As he got up to follow him, along with noticing Tybalt's growing erection, he noticed a long ribbon that he toyed with, wrapping and unwrapping red silk around his hands and fingers.

~~~

They arrived at a small cork oak forest. Every tree, harvested at its base, revealed smooth, reddish wood under its rough bark exterior. Tybalt came up from behind, pressing his body to him. His head rested into the crook of his neck as he breathed his demands into Mercutio's ear. 

"Dearest My-cutio," he murmured, "Undress for me."

Never had Mercutio related to a tree more than in that moment. The cork oaks, appearing as if they had stripped themselves, showed off its vulnerable layers to whoever laid their eyes upon them. Soon, Mercutio joined them. Tybalt sat on the groove of a Y-shaped tree, looking down on him like royalty. The ribbon dangled from his right hand. Once he was fully naked, Tybalt beckoned him to his tree.

"Sit."

Mercutio sat himself down against the cork oak. The moist ground cooled his legs, with leaves and dirt sticking to his body. He shifted with discomfort when he felt a small stick poking at his arse. The wood of the shaven trunk felt smooth on his bare backside. Tybalt, who was on the ground by then, towered over him, with a face that Mercutio knew all too well: eyes with deadly focus on his target, furrowed brows, and partially parted lips- wet and shiny from licking- releasing heavy gasps of air. It was the perfect concoction for an expression of pure desire.

"Turn around." he spoke with impatience. The anticipation of his ideas surfacing into reality excited him into speaking in only short bursts.

"On your hands and knees."

Mercutio complied to his commands. While facing the tree, removed his clothes as fast as possible. He heard sounds of garments plopping onto the ground every few seconds. As he peeked behind him, he saw him naked from the waist down, struggling to remove his bodice. When Tybalt caught him looking, Mercutio turned away. A few approaching leaf-crunching footsteps later, Tybalt gave him a strong smack on the arse. Mercutio yelped.

"No peeking."

The stinging aftermath of the blow revived some of his pleasure as his dick began to stiffen and rise once again. Once Tybalt was fully unclothed, he came to the other side of the tree. He grasped Mercutio's hands and arms and moved them to wrap around the trunk. With the ribbon, he began to tie his hands together.

"Tybalt, am I a tree hugger?"

Tybalt broke out of character to laugh. No matter the situation, his puns and remarks found a way. By then, he finished the tie into a neat little bow. Mercutio's wrists, unable to part, clasped him to the tree. The side of his face pressed against the wood. The feeling of stuckness, the vulnerability of his posterior, knowing Tybalt could do whatever he wanted- this brought Mercutio pure ecstasy. His dick begged for closure. As Tybalt came around the other side, he had a glimpse of his fully naked body. Sun-kissed from hot days spent in sword fights (mostly with Mercutio), his tanned muscles gleamed under the faint gasps of moonlight that penetrated through the leaves above. He walked with his head up high, hands on his hips, glaring at him as if he were his servant. Mercutio loved that look. Once he stood behind him, Tybalt went on his knees and held him down by the arse. Mercutio moaned in his throat. He slid his hands up and down his thighs, rubbing off the dirt and leaves that stuck to them. Once they were clean, Tybalt spread his cheeks apart, teasing him with a smooch to his entrance, before digging his tongue deep into his hole. Mercutio gasped and moaned as he flicked his tongue every which way. Tybalt's deep groans vibrated inside him. When he pulled out his tongue, saliva dripped from his entrance and his own lips. Mercutio's patience ran dry.

"Please, Tybalt-"

He slapped his arse and squeezed it tight.

"I decide when!" he bellowed. Mercutio shivered. His voice echoed around them like a divine command. Tybalt gripped onto his thighs and pushed them slightly apart. 

"Wait."

Tybalt dug around the leaves, feeling around for something in the foliage. He exclaimed a triumphant gasp and pulled out a small bottle. He dusted off the soil.

"What is it?" asked Mercutio.

Tybalt poured some liquid from the bottle and lathered it on his fingers. He rubbed some around Mercutio's entrance.

"...Oil?"

"Olive oil." 

"Tybalt, is that not what limbs are lost for? Did not you fathom the great expense of this pro- oh!"

Mercutio breaths, mixed with faint groans, rushed in and out of his lungs as he slid two oil-covered fingers inside him. His insides, tightening around his digits, warmed Tybalt's fingers. He parted them like scissors to stretch his entrance. When he curled his fingers to play with his prostate, Mercutio's toes coiled and he choked with pleasure to every stroke of his sensitive spot. His lungs inhaled and exhaled to their limit, murmuring the Capulet's name, muddled with moans, with every release of his breath. He whimpered when Tybalt removed them. He mounted on top of Mercutio, squeezing his chest with his arms enveloped around him and pressed his face against his ear.

"My-cutio, I'll need your cries to increase tenfold."

Mercutio, releasing a shuddered breath, shook his head.

"That was not a request."

Tybalt shifted his hips to align with his hole before pressing his cock into his entrance. He slid deeper inside him at a slow, but constant pace. The oil aided to reduce the pain, but a persistent, dull burn in his ass remained with his movement. It was strong enough for Mercutio to grit his teeth and clasp his arms harder around the tree. If his groans were more of pain than pleasure, Tybalt slowed or paused until Mercutio whined for more. When the pain lessened and his dick was fully engulfed in him, he began to glide his cock in and out. Their skin came into contact with a satisfying thud with every inward thrust. Mercutio moaned and hissed to the steady stream of satisfaction, which pulsed like a heartbeat. But this wasn't enough for Tybalt. He dug his nails deep into Mercutio's sides.

"I intended for this forest to be overflowing with your squalls of ecstasy." he snarled, clawing down his sides and leaving red streaks. The king of cats had nails that challenged a sword's sharpness. He sped up his thrusts, his deepening pants filled with arousal, and small thuds became loud smacks of skin. Mercutio moaned louder, breathing out obscenities, withholding from uttering his name. Tybalt slapped his rear.

"Say it."

His cock moved faster and pounded harder into him. The buildup of pressure leading to his climax was great enough that he had to rest his sweating face on Mercutio's equally damp shoulder blades, grunting with every force of his dick, which became deeper and more vigorous than the last. Still, despite increasing squeals and moans, Mercutio held his tongue, tightening his arse around his cock. Tybalt, in a fit of sexual fury, smacked his arse over and over.

"Damn you," he roared, "Say it!"

The thunderous pounding of his large cock, compounded with his entrapment and the clawing, biting, and ass-smacking, all of which were in the hands of Tybalt, his passionate foe by day, and an even more passionate sex partner by night: this brought Mercutio to his resounding climax. 

"Tybalt, oh- Tybalt!" 

His name released from the confinements of his throat as he howled each syllable with pure euphoria. With the satisfaction of dominance- to have a Montague cry out his name as if he were divinity- and the sensation of Mercutio's tight hole pumping his rapid-moving cock, Tybalt also reached his orgasm, spilling his release inside him. Once he pulled out, Mercutio collapsed onto the dirt. Semen splattered all over his back. Tybalt kissed along his spine, leaving a trail of bite marks up his back, and lapped up his seed with his warm tongue. Mercutio got a look at Tybalt's figure as he walked to untie his knot. His smooth, tanned skin became flushed and sparkling with beads of sweat. Still recovering his breath, he let out puffs of steam from his lips. The air turned colder as the evening transitioned into midnight. Mercutio felt his wrists, shaking from his high, loosening under the tie as Tybalt untied them.


End file.
